


Beneath the Skin

by Medie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Other, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-26
Updated: 2009-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His father, Arthur thinks, is a raging fool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Skin

**Author's Note:**

> written for the latest [Porn Battle](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/394717.html)

He knows.

Somehow, when Merlin disappears, Arthur just _knows_ where she's gone. He wakes to the pull of it, his name whispered through the window on the breeze. It slides along his skin like the touch of her hand, pulling him up and out of bed.

He rides out before dawn, his horse saddled and ready when he reaches the stables. Merlin's scent tickles his nose and he breathes deep, picturing her standing there in her manservant disguise and grinning up at him.

The sight of her, standing on the Isle's shores, hair loosed and beautiful, bare toes peeking from beneath her gown, steals his breath.

Then Merlin grins, wide and happy. "You heard," she announces, so utterly pleased with herself that the illusion shatters. The Lady of the Lake, Mistress of Avalon, is a country girl without any shoes.

He rises onto the steps with her, giving her a most annoyed of expressions. "The way you shouted, I expect all Albion did. If you are to do this, Merlin, you must make an attempt at caution."

It's treason of course, the worst sort, to worry after her, but Arthur's found he can't quite stop. He's fallen into the habit of looking after her safety, particularly since discovering she _was_ a she, and it's somewhat difficult to give up.

Even if the very air about him almost crackles with power.

Just as he's considering the sheer lunacy of _Merlin_ possessing such, she shakes her head and grabs his tunic. Arthur manages an undignified, quite unprincely squawk before he's pulled forward into a kiss.

They stumble together, old steps and poor footing to blame, and Arthur only just keeps them afoot. As it is, he is against the stairs with Merlin pressed against him and her knee is...

He groans, looking up. "Merlin."

Her response is laughter and a move closer. Surely she must be bewitched, Avalon driving her actions. Merlin is never this. Never was. Never -- She brushes fingertips against his face, looking down at him with suddenly serious eyes. "Arthur?"

Catching her hand, he kisses her impossibly-soft palm. "Not here." Hurt clouds her gaze and he realizes immediately his mistake. "No," he says quickly, before she can withdraw, "I did not mean that, I meant not here." He gestures to the stairs beneath them. "It would be quite embarrassing if we should slip and fall into the lake."

Merlin looks blankly at him, then at the water behind them, and blushes red. "Oh."

"Well," Arthur says, dry as the summer fields, "at least you're still you." The Lady's vaunted vision, it seems, has not passed with deed and title to the Isle.

She huffs a breath, pushing up and away. "I suppose that's supposed to be clever?"

He grins wide, quite enjoying the colour in her cheeks and the spark of annoyance in her eye. "Not particularly, but if you've missed -- " invisible hands yank him up, righting him on his feet, "it."

It's Merlin who grins now. "More than I thought possible." She pauses, a thoughtful frown taking the grin's place. "Best forget I said that."

Arthur shakes his head. "Never, my lady," he says, the words falling easy from his lips. "There's far too much use to be had from that."

"Prat," she says, scowling, "great raging prat."

He nods. "Absolutely." They should be moving, finding somewhere less precarious, but that would require them being silent and, somehow, Arthur can't quite see that. Instead, he reaches for her and she for him and they end up precisely where they were.

Merlin's fingers trace silly little patterns into his neck, stroking over the skin, and he shivers. They fumble together for a moment, pushing and pulling, rearranging until he can rise up and she can sink down.

When they meet, it's with a low, fevered moan that echoes around them.

His father would kill them both for this. Kill her just for being.

Rocking forward on him, Merlin sighs his name into their kiss. Arthur gathers fistfuls of her skirt, his hands going to the skin of her thighs. It's warm against his palms, alive, and he thinks he can feel the power thrumming just there beneath her skin. Magic enough to work miracles should someone but ask.

She cries out, unashamed in her pleasure, her hands grabbing desperately for him.

His father, Arthur thinks, is a raging fool.


End file.
